


Summoned

by cat_77



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mild torture, protective chosen family, spoilers for 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: They were to be five points of a circle, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was to be summoned.





	Summoned

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this ready for a while and decided to post one last fic before the new year.
> 
> * * *

Alec tried really hard not to groan as consciousness returned. Everything hurt. His arms, his legs, possibly even his hair. The worst part was that he had no idea how or why he was in this state. Of course, opening his eyes might help with at least that portion of his current predicament.

He blinked them open slowly, and then really wished he had not. Everything was dark and dingy except a near blindingly bright light that seemed to emanate from the floor itself just to his left. His arms hurt because he was strung up by them, heavy chains looped over an overhead beam and then locked soundly around his wrists. He was left with enough give to rest on his tiptoes, now that he knew to do so, but even that was not enough to fully remove the strain. He wasn’t sure why his legs hurt, but he was fairly certain it had something to do with the sticky mess that felt suspiciously like his own blood that clung to his legs.

“You back with us, Shadowhunter?” a voice asked from the same direction as the light. Familiar. Pained but not mocking.

“Raphael?” he confirmed before he craned his neck in that direction.

“In the flesh. Slightly seared flesh at that,” the vampire replied. He saw now that he too was strung up with heavy manacles, granted just a tiny bit more give in allowance for his shorter stature. Also like him, he was shirtless, fresh scrapes littering his pale skin. The light was set just in front of his bare feet, a small box that poured out a brilliant luminescence in a perfectly cubed format. “Anyone want to tell me why the mundanes had to come up with something that mimics the damned sun?”

There was a huff, almost of amusement, but it didn’t come from him. A voice to his right replied, “Humans believe they need sunlight to prevent certain types of depression. They’re supposed to shine that type of light on themselves for a few hours during the winter to help.”

“Wonderful. Now I have to fear lightbulbs,” Raphael groused. He didn’t look precisely at him, which was fine because it was hard to see clearly with that thing on, but he did address him when he said, “Yes, you are bleeding. Yes, some Shadowhunter blood would be quite tasty right now, and maybe enough for me to break out of these things. No, I can’t reach you.”

“Yes, he tried,” the voice to his right confirmed. 

He supposed that was fair, anything to use as an advantage to escape and all that. If he could reach, he might have even offered. Instead, he addressed a woman who was only vaguely familiar that hung next to him on the same sort of curve he was to Raphael. She at least had been granted the modesty of her sports bra atop her leggings, but was otherwise in a similar state. “You’re not Maia,” he said, actually surprised at that. There was a definite similarity and, with Raphael there, it made a sort of sense that it could be. For as many beings as there were in the Shadow World, the same ones seemed to congregate time and time again.

“Nope, but I guess I looked enough like her to confuse the idiot who took us,” she confirmed. He hair was a little shorter and her curls a little more tightly wound. The scar on her neck was on the wrong side and at the wrong angle though. “She’s my packmate. Is it wrong to wish she was here instead of me? Like, I know this sucks, but she seems to always be involved in the Shadowhunter shenanigans and I am perfectly fine avoiding them.”

He snorted despite the situation. “I’m sure she’d take no offense,” he assured her. “I’m Alec, by the way.”

“Karen. Nice, simple, plain werewolf Karen. Can I go back to that now?” she asked with a tiny bit of a plea at the end.

“Sure, just as soon as I figure out how to swing over to let Raphael take a bite, free himself, hopefully not just run and leave me hanging, and then we can figure out what to do with you and whoever else is hanging out on that other side,” he quipped. Then, because he could, he added, “Might not be as sweet as my sister, but you’d be willing to give it a go if it meant freedom, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, we’re at the joking stage now?” Raphael shook his head, only to almost lose his balance and teeter towards the light. Perhaps into it if the hiss and bit of smoke was any indication. “I don’t see that magic wand of yours anywhere, so I’m not sure how you’re going to get us out of here.”

“She’s in silver and I am in iron,” the fourth and final occupant pointed out. 

“Seelie?” Alec guessed now that he knew where to focus to almost see him.

“And apparently our captor believes all Downworlders look the same. Meliorn is a friend, but we look nothing alike,” the man in question huffed. It was partially true. Both had the sides of their dark scalps shaved, but this one had no mark on his face and looked to be a good head shorter.

“Wait, didn’t you stop by Magnus’ last week?” he asked, memories coming back.

The man nodded. “Aliorn. He gave me a tincture for a reaction to the very thing I am currently surrounded by,” the man confirmed.

“And Karen?” he asked, already fearing the answer.

She let out a slow breath. “Magnus gave me something to help with the scarring. I’ve only been like this for a few months and it’s not been the easiest of adjustments, if you get my drift. Also, silver on bare skin? Hurts like fuck.” A glance showed that her bonds were not pure silver, which would have been ridiculously expensive, but a thin thread was wound around the same sort of manacles gifted to the others. The seelie actually had a scrap of cloth wound through his; not enough to full protect him but it would prolong the duration of withstanding the effects for at least a little while.

Alec swore, low and colorful, much to the amusement of at least two of the others. “You just figured out what’s all here, didn’t you?” Raphael guessed. He tilted his head back, but managed to keep his balance. “We thought it was a formula thing. One of each and all that. A vamp, a wolf, a seelie, and a Shadowhunter. We figured whoever the guy brought in next would answer what he wanted. Pure mundane: summoning. Warlock: different kind of summoning. Pure demon: we’re screwed.”

It was then Alec noticed the empty spot across from him. Well, technically not empty and technically not directly across from him the way they were all hung in an almost circle. It was a cage with chains draped from a slat at the top. The entire thing was painted in runes and sigils; the runes were standard containment ones but he didn’t recognize the sigils. “Demon or warlock. They wouldn’t need the extra force for a mundane,” he reasoned.

“How are you calm?” Karen asked, her own voice hitching.

“He’s really not,” Raphael admitted for him. “I can hear his heart pounding. Not as fast as yours, but it ain’t slow. Seelie over there made me wonder if he was dead though.”

“Meditating,” Aliorn corrected. “It clears the mind, removes oneself from pain, and readies oneself for any upcoming action that may need to be taken.”

Raphael scoffed. “How’s that going for you?”

“I am currently contemplating what type of gauntlets I will need to cover the horrific scarring I shall have from this ordeal,” Aliorn admitted wryly.

“Oh, you’re going to need more than gauntlets,” a new voice chimed in as candles dramatically lit around them. Despite the way it echoed in the almost familiar warehouse-like area, it was still muffled. Alec gave in and turned to face the source, only to actively resist rolling his eyes at the cliche. Flowing robes of all black edged in metallic embroidery covered what he was fairly certain was a male based upon the build. Hood up and ornate mask in place to make sure nothing was actually identifiable as well as to muffle and distort the voice. All show, which usually meant very little substance.

Magnus had once said that warlocks rarely wore gloves unless it was for the prevention of contamination as it served as a barrier, minuscule as it may be, to the flow of magic. That seemed to be the case for this idiot as well, who snapped fingers covered in elaborate rings of silver to produce a long rod tipped with a sharpened point. He shoved it against the seelie’s skin almost absentmindedly and even chuckled in delight at the gasp of pain he produced.

“Iron, such a common thing in this day and age and yet...” He dragged the piece along Aliorn’s side, a bright brand left in its wake. He didn’t even need to use the sharpened edge to cause the damage. “Just as common as silver, really,” he added mildly. It was the only warning he gave before he skimmed his bejeweled fingers along Karen’s upper arm, which caused her to reel backwards and lose her footing as she tried to avoid the sizzling pain.

“Don’t you need your sacrifices in one piece until the big event?” Raphael spat. It served its purpose as it drew the attention away from the now injured woman and focused it on himself. 

The warlock, as Alec was all for calling things as they were, used the tip of his booted foot to tilt the light from the floor slightly, letting the rays etch against the skin of Raphael’s bare feet for a moment before he let it go. “You think you’ve figured it all out then?” he laughed in an almost singsong voice.

“We’re four points of a circle, just missing the fifth,” Alec pointed out. “Connect the dots to summon something we probably could do without.” He tried his best to sound bored, even as his mind reeled with the possibilities.

That earned a full guffaw. “I do so love that it was you to declare that,” the warlock admitted. “It also gives me reason to pay you the same respect I have given the others.”

That was the only warning he got before a fist connected solidly with his jaw. It did so again and again before the man decided his ribs were all nice and exposed and landed a few there as well, the rings he wore sharp against his skin. He had dropped the rod though, so at least there wasn’t the extra oomph from that. “Must suck,” Alec said around a mouthful of blood. “Not having a weakness like the others you can use against me. Got to get your pretty hands all dirty.”

Another punch, this time right to his solar plexus before the man pulled back. His feet actively swung before his toes could find purchase again and his shoulders rather did not appreciate the extra abuse. He refused to gasp for air no matter how much he craved it, and instead decided to take delight in the way the man’s knuckles were an angry red before a glow of blue returned them to their previous pale peach.

“You think you don’t have a weakness, Shadowhunter?” the warlock demanded, the hint of a gasp to his words showing he was out of breath from his actions. “You had so many to choose from, I needed to narrow it down.” He walked back towards the shadows where he had first appeared from, candles snuffing out in his wake, but not before he called, “You’ll see soon enough.”

“Well, that wasn’t ominous,” Karen commented once the footsteps faded away.

“Or overdramatic,” Alec agreed. He finally gave in to the need to wheeze for breath. Finally feeling the smallest bit more steady, he asked, “Is everyone okay?”

“No,” Karen answered honestly at the same time Raphael said, “Nothing a few pints of warlock blood won’t fix.”

He waited for Aliorn’s report, which was a rather understated, “I do not believe meditation will be of assistance in this matter.” He was slumped against his bonds which, to be fair, they all were at this point. It was probably the intent, really. Weaken them so that they couldn’t form any sort of united front when the final participant was brought in.

“What about you, Shadowhunter? I didn’t need my enhanced hearing to know something snapped. You can’t draw on yourself to fix that all tied up like you are,” Karen pointed out.

Alec gritted his teeth to help himself tamp down on the pain. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse,” was all he replied. It wasn’t a lie, but either was the fact he was used to a far quicker turn around on healing.

They fell into silence after that, each contemplating their own wounds. Karen looked mournfully at where she was likely to scar, nose twitching as her inner wolf wanted out. The silver prevented that for now, but there was no telling what would happen if the warlock needed her in her other form for whatever he had planned. Aliorn glared at the brand across his abdomen as though it personally offended him. He had thin slivers that told the tales of previous injuries though, likely just upset this one was not hard won in battle. Raphael just tried to balance on raw and bleeding feet. He glanced in Alec’s direction more than once, tongue barely darting between his lips as the cure for so much lay just out of reach.

As for Alec himself, he knew at least one rib was cracked if not fully broken and his current position was not exactly alleviating his discomfort. He resisted the urge to lick at his split lip, not wanting to seem like he was taunting the vampire, and instead ran his tongue along his teeth inside his mouth to make sure they were all there.

He tried to remember just how he ended up in this position in the first place. He remembered training at the Institute, and he remembered signing off on a report or five. He actually finished up earlier than planned for a change and there had been no pending emergencies that demanded his attention nor were there any plans for him to patrol that night. He had decided to walk over to Magnus’ and pick up an early dinner along the way. He clearly never made it there but, aside from the glint of light off of something in one of the alleyways and a sudden sharp pain in the right side of his neck, opposite his deflect rune of course, there was nothing. He could only assume he was drugged, and the knowledge that there was a warlock at play was one of the few things that made that make sense as only they might have the power enough to overcome even the latent power of that rune.

He rotated his neck back and forth slowly, side to side. There was the ache from being held in the same position for too long, but there was also something extra. Sharp turned to dull, a sting almost beneath the surface.

“Yeah, he darted me too,” Raphael said apropos of nothing. He tilted his head to the side to reveal a tiny red dot in the center of a strange spiderweb of bruising. “Kinda sad really, that he managed it. I feel a little better that he got you the same way.”

Alec gave him the side eye but did have to agree that it was comforting to know that someone with a vampire’s reflexes managed to get caught in the same trap. It made him feel marginally less of a failure for it. Karen chimed in that she was roofied, but at a coffee bar of all places. Aliorn lamented that he may never eat his favored scones from the tiny little tea shop ever again.

Knowing how they got there did precisely nothing to help them figure out how to get out of there. If anything, it just opened up the possibilities of how their final guest may arrive. Clearly the warlock liked his potions and tinctures but, unfortunately, that didn’t exactly narrow down the potential suspects. Even Magnus made sleeping droughts and other things designed to help people relax. He just tended to make sure there was consent involved first.

They actually didn’t have to wait too much longer for their final victim to arrive. Overzealous warlock-guy clomped back in with the candled fanfare and swung open the door to the empty cage. Alec knew enough about magic to know he was unlocking far more than the physical entrance and/or exit by doing so, interrupting the connection of everything that created it. There was a flash, there was a bang, there was a fair deal of lights beyond the candles, and then there was the muffled voice that demanded, “Say hello to your new friends. This may be the last chance that you will ever have.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the man stepped back and locked everything into place. A demon like he said earlier, maybe. A newbie or maybe even a seasoned warlock that he had managed to catch off guard. It certainly wasn’t a familiar tiny voice slurred from being drugged that cried, “Alec!” as tiny wrists pulled at chains that had shrunk to hold them.

“Madzie!” he exclaimed in surprise. He instantly gave up on his silent promise to wait the idiot out to see what he had planned and began to struggle in earnest. His bonds didn’t budge, of course, and all he managed to do is torque and twist himself into new and painful positions.

“You see, Shadowhunter, you do still have weaknesses,” the warlock cackled. He honestly didn’t think anyone did that outside of movies or maybe Izzy when she got the drop on Jace.

“Let the girl go!” Raphael demanded. His skin smoked as he edged closer to the light with his own attempt at freeing himself.

“She’s just a kid!” Karen protested even as Aliorn spat out promises of retribution.

“She’s a warlock that already has blood on her hands,” their captor corrected.

“Whatever you are summoning, you don’t need to hurt a child for it!” Alec shouted in anger. He tried to steady himself, body and mind. He would be no good to Madzie if he went and did something stupid.

The warlock chuckled and shook his cloaked head. “Summoning. I suppose that is accurate, in a sense. Though it’s more like sending a message, really.” He stepped closer but, before Alec could swing out with his feet in an attempt at attack if not freedom, he snapped his fingers and Alec found himself frozen in place. He could still feel everything, could still see and smell and hear his surroundings, but he could do precisely nothing to move.

“Well, this is frustrating,” Alec said, mainly to see if he was still capable of speech.

The man snapped his fingers again and a small knife appeared in his hands. “Isn’t it though?” he asked mildly. He placed the tip of the ornate blade against the strength rune on his upper arm, making sure it glinted in the light and and was in full view for Alec, as if he could look away in the position he was in. He pressed unbearably slowly until he just pierced the skin and then proceeded to trace the rune with precise accuracy. Finished, he immediately moved on to the iratze, the sensation somehow both stronger and dulled at the same time. “They can’t activate from this, of course. I wonder, would they still work if cut from your skin?”

“Don’t hurt Alec!” Madzie called from across the circle, sounding far more like herself. He tried not to think about the rattle of metal that accompanied her words. He focused instead on just what he was going to do to the man in front of him when he got the chance.

The warlock turned, a glint of red on the blade as he addressed her and said, “But darling, he’s the message. You all are. And when he gets it, he will come for you. Or at least what remains of you.”

“Magnus,” Alec guessed. All of this was over a pissing match with his boyfriend. A few false starts along the way with Karen and Aliorn, unless it mattered less how close those two were and more that they were people Magnus had dealings with at all. Raphael was like a son to him, Madzie like a daughter, and Alec...

“Your boyfriend has to pay,” the warlock agreed. He tsked and added, “But seeing how he isn’t here right now, you will have to do.” 

The blade moved to his accuracy rune and repeated the process of the others, the tiny trickle it produced like an itch along his skin. It made him twitch the little he was apparently allowed, which ignited more of a fire in his abused muscles than the injury itself, but still served its purpose. He assumed longevity was the name of the game at this point; pain but no death until Magnus was there to witness it. At least that gave him an idea. If he could keep the attention on himself, there would be no reason to further harm the others. Shadowhunters protected. That was his job, his very purpose of being. He would do everything in his power to protect Madzie and the others. All he had to do was not bleed out until the guest of honor arrived.

Of course that was shot when the knife was held towards Raphael with the offer of, “Would you like a lick? It might take off your tongue, but maybe it would be enough to free you and you could start your grand rescue.”

Alec knew it had to be tempting, at least a little bit, but he heard the grunted response of, “I’ll pass, thanks,” even if he was unable to turn to see Raphael’s reaction.

“Very well,” the warlock sighed, sounding almost put out that he didn’t get the response he wanted.

Alec expected him to move on to taunt the others some more, or maybe continue the slow scrape of the blade across his own skin. He didn’t expect the sudden almost angry jab into his side, far deeper than the others so far. He felt a flash of agony and then a flash of something more. The bond created by the parabatai rune surged and flared and, for a moment, he swore he saw his surrogate brother stumble, hand to his own side and its matching rune, the feel of sticky warmth oozing through his empty fingertips. 

At the very least, there was a very good chance he had Jace’s attention if he hadn’t before. He tried to push through the pain and send a message through the bond. A cry for help. Not for himself, but for the others that he was currently incapable of saving.

“That should end poorly,” Raphael muttered, not much more than a whisper really. He at least knew what the rune meant, and the full implications of its use. Unlike the others, no stele was needed to activate it as it was always on, always connecting him to the other piece of himself, the one with a decent need for vengeance on a good day.

“That’s the whole point, dear,” the warlock told him, either not fully understanding the jibe or purposefully ignoring it. 

Warmth flowed freely down his side now, pooling at his waistband before the fabric tried its best to absorb it. This one bled enough to make him lightheaded, dazed for a moment while his body tried to figure out what was going on and why he was doing nothing to prevent it. He was sad to admit that a grunt escaped even as he held in the scream, not wanting to give his captor even that much satisfaction.

The captor in question smeared his fingers across the wound now and used what he gathered to paint a shape across Alec’s chest. He wasn’t sure if it was a rune or a sigil as it had no effect save for making his skin itch, but Raphael used the temporary distraction to make a move. He swung forward, Alec didn’t know if he held on to his bonds or managed it some other way, but there was movement enough for even him to see as Raphael kicked outward and managed to make contact with their captor, even if it was just a glancing blow. It made the robed man stumble and have to right himself, words too quiet to have meaning echoing beneath the mask.

The warlock finally left his side to deal with the vampire, and the spell he had cast collapsed, much like Alec himself against his bonds. He hadn’t realized how much he had been kept upright by it until it was gone. He struggled to find his footing again, struggled just to breathe really, and by the time he managed both, Raphael was at the center of the man’s attentions.

Alec turned his head as much as he could, needed to know what was going on as much as find something to concentrate on other than the pain. Raphael had stood by during his own torture, so he owed him at least that much. By the time he managed it, the vampire had several burns across his exposed skin, likely from the light, and the warlock had carved a large sigil of unknown importance across his chest. Still, he taunted him, drew his attention back to him if it even started to wander, and it took Alec a ridiculously long breath of a moment to figure out why.

Aliorn struggled against his bonds, soundless as they burnt into him, reaching with everything he had to try to slide the bolt to unlock Madzie’s cage with his foot. On the other side of the child, Karen did the same, a trickle of blood at her lip where she bit it to try to stay quiet.

The warlock noticed something though, Raphael being too good at the game and not being known as the talkative sort. He turned just as Aliorn righted himself and scoffed, “I’m not nearly distracted enough to allow any of you to escape.” 

A few things happened then. There was a clank against the cement as the iron rod jerked and rose to his hand from where it had been discarded. There was a bright swirl of gold to his left. There was a bright swirl of purplish-red to his right. Magnus materialized from the purple, sparks of blue already flying from his fingertips as he said, “You really shouldn’t have chosen a place I owned less than a century ago.”

The other warlock threw up a shield and pointed out, “Unless I wanted you to find them.” He ducked and tossed out a fireball of his own, barely out of breath as he admitted, “I was hoping to have more time with them first. Leave you their husks. Maybe keep the Shadowhunter just alive enough for you to have a touching last moment. I was really looking forward to spending some time with that deflect rune of his.”

Alec had to give Magnus credit, aside from the quickest glance and a whispered, “Alexander,” he focused on the task at hand. That task being using everything in his arsenal to take down the man who had taken what was his.

The gold had faded though, and he sensed movement to his left. Actually, he heard them more than anything else, Jace letting loose quite the string of profanity when he saw the scene before him. Clary, Izzy, and even Simon were barely a step behind him, the four of them transported through one of Clary’s portals while Magnus used his own. Sound strategy to approach an unknown enemy from multiple flanks; he could respect that even if it made him a little dizzy to witness let alone contemplate it at the moment. Jace griped his side as he moved, right above his own parabatai rune, and looked far more sweaty and pale than he had any right to be when he approached. “Alec!” he exclaimed with more than a little amount of panic to his tone. 

It took Alec a stupidly long time to realize the knife was about to begin an arc towards him, only to make a sudden redirect as Izzy’s whip yanked the hand that wielded it back and away. The warlock shook himself free, losing the knife in the process. He managed to knock Izzy back a few steps, but his attention was once again focused on Magnus alone soon enough.

There were hands on him then, supporting him even as there were demands to unlock the chains. Clary couldn’t quite reach and Simon couldn’t use the stele and Izzy was too busy swearing vengeance even as she wasn’t much taller anyway even in her heels. He tried ineffectually to shake them away. “Get Madzie first,” he insisted, which let loose a whole new slew of profanity, and not just from his parabatai.

Izzy broke off but Jace still gripped him around the waist with one arm, trying to reach up to use his stele with the other. That turned out to be a good thing as a wayward fireball caused them both to teeter and almost lose balance. Alec twisted and groaned as his shoulder took far too much torqued weight, and Jace shifted his hold to right him. “Chained to a ceiling in the middle of a warlock fight? Not a good idea,” he muttered before making another attempt with his stele.

Simon solved that particular dilemma when he lifted Clary up high enough to reach the chains. A few sweeping movements later, and they opened, finally releasing his arms from their highly uncomfortable position. He’d like to say he steadied himself and landed with grace, but that would have been a boldface lie. Jace took the brunt of it, managing his ungainly body enough to fully lower him to the floor and not injure him any further in the process. 

He turned to watch Simon and Clary repeat their trick with Raphael after hearing the damned light crash against the far wall. It left the room lit solely by the theatrical candles and the sheer amount of magic flying between the warlocks and took his eyes a moment to adjust to the difference. Satisfied that the vampire wasn’t going to fry himself, they moved on to try to sneak through the battle to help free the others.

He saw the glint of Jace’s stele and wasn’t ashamed to admit he welcomed the relief. Unfortunately that relief never came as Raphael held a burnt and abraded hand just over the iratze and shook his head. Jace tried to push him away and complained, “What the hell, man? He’s bleeding everywhere.”

“Yes, and it’s incredibly tempting,” Raphael admitted. “But he used a warlock blade specifically on the runes. I wouldn’t trust them to work as designed until Magnus has a look.”

“So, what, we just wait? Hope our warlock is stronger than the other one?” Jace sniped.

Raphael flopped down, either unwilling or unable to support himself any longer. “Your choice, muchacho, but I can smell more than just his blood and my skin. How’s that BFF tat of yours doing?”

Alec tried to turn to see for himself, not at all surprised when Jace halted the movement and bodily lifted him to brace his head and shoulders on his lap instead, effectively blocking the discovery. “You’re hurt,” Alec accused. “Saw it with your grand entrance.”

It was only a little bit of a lie, but Jace allowed it. “Yeah, you bleed, I bleed apparently, at least for now,” he admitted. Alec tried to pat him down but found his hands slapped away with far too much ease. “Just that one,” he promised. “But I know you’ve got way more than that so stay still, will you?”

Of course all of that was for naught as something new came barreling towards them, and this time it wasn’t a fireball. “Alec!” Madzie cried as she threw himself at him. Jace tried to block the worst of it, but there was no stopping a determined baby sorceress.

He let her tuck her head under his chin and tried not to think about the cracked rib cracking further under the onslaught. He raised an admittedly shaky hand pet the top of her hair softly. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, unable to do a more thorough review at the moment.

She nodded and the point of her chin dug painfully against his collarbone. He felt wetness against his skin and knew the young girl was crying long before the sobbing started. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bad man!”

“Shh, no sweetie, it’s not your fault,” he tried to calm her. 

Raphael chimed in with, “He managed to get all of us, not just you.”

“So we all equally failed,” Karen huffed as she plopped down gracelessly beside them. At the look she received from the others, she amended that to, “I mean, he caught us all, even with everything we have.”

Madzie sniffed and raised her head, skull a near miss with Alec’s jaw. “I couldn’t stop him from cursing your drawings. I tried, but nothing worked.”

“You were in a cage that limited your magic,” Aliorn explained as he joined the growing group. Clearly there was safety in numbers, or possibly under the watchful eye of armed Shadowhunters. “It is not your fault.” The fact that it was a seelie, someone incapable of lying, who said those words did more to calm her than their previous combined efforts.

Clary, Izzy, and Simon now stood guard around them, but it was Izzy that turned and asked, “So the iratze won’t work?”

“The bad man cursed Alec’s drawings,” Jace confirmed. It made Alec huff, which reignited all sorts of pain that he would rather do without. Jace offered him an apologetic pat in return.

“Sure, the kid they believe,” Raphael muttered, which earned another huff, this time from Alec’s makeshift backrest.

Isabelle was less amused than the others. Her whip uncoiled from her wrist again as she began to stalk towards the far corner where the warlocks continued to battle. “Well then, let’s get the bad man to fix them,” was all she said.

“Izzy, no!” Alec called after her. His voice croaked oddly with even just those two words, which was probably the only reason why she turned back to him. He had swallowed too much of his own blood at that point, not to mention felt just the overwhelming weakness from everything else. It was annoying. As was the fact he was unable to hide that weakness from the others.

“Warlock battle,” Jace reminded her. An explosion to their left emphasized his point.

Clary rested her hand on Isabelle’s shoulder and promised, “We will fix this, but don’t get yourself killed before we do, okay?”

Her response was lost in the rush and swirl of yet another portal opening in the rapidly decimated room. Lorenzo and Catarina stepped out, took one look at the situation, and promptly blasted both other warlocks apart. Catarina went immediately to the injured and even managed to pry Madzie loose enough until she latched onto her instead. “I’ve got you, honey,” she said and held her tight.

“Bad man hurt Alec. Hurt all of us,” Madzie announced with a determined sniff.

“Well, the bad man is being dealt with right now,” Catarina promised. The looked to the tatters of the recently freed group and asked, “Should we see what we can do to help your new friends?”

Madzie nodded again, a very determined look in her eyes. Catarina foolishly released her to turn to the task at hand, and the girl took off towards the other warlocks instead. “Madzie, no!” Alec called, his voice echoed by more than one other person.

He pushed himself up despite Jace’s best attempts to prevent it, but only made it to a sitting position, standing far beyond him in his current state, and even that was shaky at best. He watched as Madzie stormed up to where Lorenzo stood, arms out to separate the two others who were more than willing to continue their fight. “Bad man!” she declared with a kick to the robed man’s shins. Her hands began to glow though, and it took Lorenzo’s quick reflexes to stop her.

The other warlock, mask now discarded to show an impossibly young face, took advantage of the distraction and made a move against Magnus, which was easily countered. A flick of his wrist and Magnus had him wreathed in blue, gasping for breath. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end you for what you’ve done,” he growled.

Of all the responses, Alec did not expect a chuckle. “Because you are not the High Warlock anymore. You can’t hide behind that title. Kill me, and you’ll be locked away by the Clave.”

It was not Magnus who spoke next, but Lorenzo. “And yet you forget yourself as well, Maurice,” he pointed out as he slowly stood from where he had been knelt next to Madzie. “You have directly attacked both Downworlder and Shadowhunter allies; that alone could be seen as an act of war. You also harmed one of our own, a child, and that is simply unforgivable.”

“He as good as killed the only father I’ve ever known!” the warlock protested.

“He had your mentor confined where he could no longer harm other Downworlders,” Lorenzo corrected with a level of calm Alec couldn’t get near at the moment. “A sentence far more generous than he deserved. His only failing was that he did not more closely watch Victor’s accomplices, such as yourself, which could have prevented today’s unfortunate events.”

“He left us to die!” Maurice insisted. 

“He left you to make amends, to make better life choices than your teacher,” Lorenzo retorted. He snapped his fingers and a portal appeared just behind the rogue warlock. “It would be so easy to sentence you to the same, perhaps more. But too many factions are at play and I will follow the rules, for now. The Clave will decide what to do with you. I will simply recommend the strongest sentence possible, and urge the others to do the same.”

He snapped his fingers again and made an almost shooing motion with the hand currently not holding Madzie, either protectively or restrainingly, it was hard to tell. Maurice was sent tumbling through before the bright light blinked out and left the room cast in darkness again.

“Thank you,” Magnus said after he conjured a light for the others to see by.

Lorenzo shook his head and released the child. “If I hadn’t been here, you would have killed him. I would have pretended to be angry that you did not follow the rules, the others would have defended you citing protection of allies. It would be a long, drawn out mess that would have ended with me shaking my finger at you and you losing more face than you already have,” he rattled off, ending with a dramatic sigh. “He’s the Clave’s problem now. We apparently have enough of our own.”

“He hurt people,” Madzie said with an almost pout.

Lorenzo knelt down beside her again. “Yes, he did. But we would be no better than he if we sought only our own vengeance,” he explained. “Each person that he hurt, their faction will have a say in what happens to him. For now though, let’s make sure that you are unharmed.”

Alec wasn’t sure what else the two warlocks said as he felt himself fading, and fast. He sank back down against Jace, breath not much more than harsh pants as he fought to stay conscious. “Whatever he did to the runes, I don’t think it’s stopping now that he’s gone,” he managed.

Magnus was at his side in the blink of an eye, fingertips blue as his magic searched out just what had been done. “Strength, healing, what else?” he asked even as he continued.

“Accuracy and parabatai,” Jace answered for him. He shifted to lay Alec flat, letting Magnus have more room to work.

“Did you feel the effects?” Magnus asked.

Jace shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to a shivering Karen. In the process, he revealed a stain of red on his shirt right over the rune in question. “You might say that,” he confirmed. He peeled away the damp fabric to reveal a wound nearly identical to Alec’s own.

“This is not good,” Magnus muttered, fingertips still flying.

“There is a counter spell,” Lorenzo announced, even though he looked less than pleased that he would be helping a Shadowhunter of all people. Perhaps he felt obligated due to their bonding over trinkets, or maybe it was just to try to keep the Clave from seeking retribution should one of their own die, Alec wasn’t sure.

“We would need the blade he used,” Catarina commented. She had been attempting to treat Aliorn with her magic, but it was apparently a slow process. She was talented, even Alec knew that, which meant the wounds were quite severe. Aliorn had mentioned a tincture earlier, a potion used to treat something similar. It was possible simple magic would not be enough, much like with his own wounds.

“You mean this?” Simon asked, drawing him back to the present. He held up the ornate knife that Isabelle had knocked away earlier and Alec swore he could feel Magnus sigh in relief through the magic that danced along his skin.

“I should have the ingredients needed back at the loft, as well as remedies for the others’ wounds,” Magnus announced. He lay a hand across Alec’s forehead, cool and soothing despite everything else that was going on. “You need to hold on, darling. We will fix this.”

Alec had no idea who opened the portal, nor could he be certain who carried him through. He thought it might have been Jace and/or Izzy solely because he doubted anyone else would have been allowed. He caught a glimpse of red against leather and assumed Clary helped Karen. There was no way Raphael could walk on his own, not with the damage done to his feet, but Simon was there to assist him. Catarina had taken responsibility for Aliorn and Lorenzo cared for no one save for warlocks, so he escorted an increasingly drowsy Madzie through.

The conversations that swarmed around him made less and less sense with each passing moment. Every wound screamed in increasing agony even as his ability to fight it dripped away. He assumed his strength was fading from the now-corrupted rune, and his healing was hindered by the same treatment to the iratze, but he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t going to ask for a bow to fire to test that theory with his accuracy any time soon, nor was he willing to try anything with a stele at that point. There was the smell of smoke and incense, of bitter herbs and tart tinctures. He knew he faded in and out as they worked, that much was obvious just from the sheer amount of times he heard Jace and Izzy confirm that he was back with them. The couch pressed uncomfortably against his back and he questioned why he wasn’t allowed into his own bed even as he knew it left him closer to where they worked, closer to the cure, closer to where the others were also being treated. Also, he knew for a fact that it was possible to scrub blood from leather, but he wasn’t so sure about fancy brocade.

Soon enough, there was a different voice beside him. Familiar. Soothing. “Alexander?” Magnus asked. He forced his eyes open to see the worried visage of his lover. In his hand he held the warlock blade, metal stained with whatever remedy they had come up with, and he had a bad feeling about just what that remedy would entail. “This will not be pleasant, love. But I fear it is the most expedient as well as the most effective cure.”

He licked his lips and tried to force himself to speak, tasting the bitter tang of his own dried blood. “Do it,” he managed, sounding far braver than he currently felt.

There was shuffling as people took their places, what sounded like Raphael and Karen of all people trying to distract Madzie. Clary and Simon succeeded and he had the feeling bribery may have been involved. There were chanted words and the familiar buzz of Magnus’ magic, augmented by what he could only assume was the energy of the other warlocks that were present.

To say what happened next was unpleasant would be an understatement of epic proportions. The blade was drawn along his skin, retracing the wounds it had previously made. Whatever had been added to it felt like acid, his very being bubbling and burning as the compound destroyed what he now felt as a foreign presence that had already entwined so deeply with his own. Multiple hands held him down and he tried not to scream, tried not to make this harder on Magnus than it already was. His body still thrashed of its own accord no matter how hard he tried to stop it, aggravating his other wounds that had yet to be treated.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, cool damp cloths were pressed against the cuts, herb scented rags dragged along his face and neck and panting chest. The familiar tingle of the iratze being activated told him that whatever they had done had worked well enough for them to trust his own healing once again and he deemed that a success. Someone even had the audacity to drape a blanket on top of him, which was fine as he shivered against the air, too damned tired to win against the exhaustion taking hold.

“Sit down before you fall down, Bane,” Lorenzo’s commanding tone sounded in the ensuing silence. There was the scrape of a chair, the thump of a tired body, and then a tsk of, “Between fighting Maurice and healing your Shadowhunter, you have nearly drained yourself. A novice could come in and take you out right now.”

“I’ll stay with him until he’s got some juice back,” Catarina promised. There was, of all things, a chuckle before she added, “Doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere anytime soon anyway.”

Alec would have questioned that, but a tiny yet heavy presence wriggled its way under his arm and half on top of him, narrowly missing the worst of his remaining wounds. “We fixed your drawings,” Madzie announced around a yawn, oblivious to his sweat and the remnants of what they had just done.

Jace tried to pry her free with an admonishment that she was crushing him, and Alec opened his eyes in time to see the tiny bit of blue that danced along the child’s fingertips as she was about to offer an admonishment of her own. He grabbed her hand before she could launch anything at his overprotective parabatai, and said, “I think we earned a nap after that.”

He felt a second blanket be tucked around them both and heard Jace teasingly ask if Magnus needed one as well. His lover was stretched out on the chaise lounge and scowled, but notably did not refuse what Catarina draped over him anyway. He drifted off to the sounds of his friends arranging what appeared to be both a schedule of watches for the night as well as meal options.

He awoke to the smell of Thai food and a damp circle of drool seeping through the blankets from the dead weight of the snoring child that still lay atop of him. With Izzy’s help, Madzie was shifted to a nest of blankets on the now empty chaise and he cautiously tried to sit up, only to discover he could barely manage that on his own. He felt bone weary and achy, not to mention itchy where his wounds were taking longer than usual to seal and heal.

“Give it time,” Magnus urged. He positioned himself at Alec’s side and did a half-assed job of propping him up given that he was barely upright himself. He clearly had done very little resting of his own.

“Been long enough,” he protested, even as he knew it wasn’t true. He must have been asleep for only an hour, maybe two. Lorenzo had taken his leave, but left supplies behind in case they needed them. Aliorn’s wounds were swathed in bandages, a borrowed shirt draped around his shoulders. Karen had swapped Jace’s jacket for what might have been one of his own discarded hooded sweatshirts, the bright white of fresh gauze visible at the cuffs. The way she favored her left arm spoke to the injury that still remained there. Raphael’s treatments were still in progress, a large mug of fresh blood at his side while Catarina tried to talk him into accepting more than what she had managed so far.

“It’s fine, I’ll heal soon enough,” he insisted. He batted her glowing fingertips away and told her, “Besides, your phat si-io is getting cold, you don’t want that to go to waste.”

She shook her head and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t think you are going to get away so easily, young man. You’re not leaving here until I’m satisfied and, given that sunrise is in a few minutes, don’t expect that to be anytime soon. I’ll use your own need for minimal exposure right now against you if I have to.”

The food smelled delicious, but Alec wasn’t sure he had the energy to actually consume any of it. A small bowl of broth was lifted to his lips and he took a tentative sip anyway. That sip became a gulp as his hunger made itself known, and he reached up with shaking hands to hold the bowl, only to have them swatted away. “I’m not an invalid,” he protested.

“You are, in fact, the definition of one,” Jace countered. He took the bowl away completely, but solely so that Isabelle could refill it.

He glared because he could and because it was expected, and asked, “And how’s your wound that you didn’t want me to know about?”

Jace lifted up the bottom of his shirt to reveal skin that was only the slightest bit inflamed. “Better than yours,” he smirked.

Magnus patted him consolingly. “Give it time,” he repeated. “Your body needs to recover from both the injury and the magic used against it.”

He in no way snuggled closer except for the fact that he did, Magnus not only allowing it but seeming to relish in it. “Please tell me you destroyed that knife?” he asked after round two of the broth. He still wanted more, but was smart enough to know he should probably take it easy until he knew what his system could handle.

Magnus brushed soothing fingers across the nape of his neck and replied, “It’s not destroyed, but it’s been made inert. You can do with it what you will once you are up to it.”

He started to drift from the rhythmic movement, content and at peace despite the sheer number of people surrounding him. Something niggled at the back of his mind though, and so he gave it voice. “That symbol, the one he drew on me, I’ve never seen it before. What did it mean? Was it part of the spell?”

If he hadn’t been cuddled so close, he might have missed the way Magnus tensed at the mention of the sigil. He started to pull back to get a better read on the situation, but his lover held him that much tighter instead. “No, my dear, that was a message solely to me,” he admitted, voice a mixture of emotions. He swallowed, but continued, “It is in a rarely used elder language. It is a derogatory term for concubine.”

Alec’s eyebrows rose, but he made sure Magnus could not look away after the revelation. “So he called me a whore,” he confirmed. It wasn’t what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t exactly surprising either. All in all, he supposed it could have been worse. “And Raphael’s?” he prompted.

“It means illegitimate son,” Magnus replied after a quick look to make sure Madzie was still asleep. “He called him my bastard.”

“At least I’m still part of the family, right?” Raphael snorted, which earned an eye roll from more than a single person gathered.

“I’m betting I would have gotten bitch or something else dog-related, how about you?” Karen said easily enough around a mouthful of Pad Thai.

“I do not wish to ruminate on what he would have used on me,” Aliorn admitted. Then, with a glance towards the chaise and its still slumbering occupant, he added, “Nor the child.”

Alec gently pulled Magnus’ hand out of the fist he had formed and then laced the ringed fingers through his own. “This was an attack on me,” Magnus whispered. “Everything he did, every injury he gave each and every one of you, was intended as an injury to me.”

“And if you dwell on it, he will have succeeded in his endeavor,” Aliorn pointed out.

Karen waved a hand at that. “No offense, but I’m going to dwell,” she said as she set her bowl to the side. “This fricken hurt. So I am going to dwell and I am going to pout and then I’m going to realize I survived an attack by an insane warlock and be the stronger for it. Street cred, if nothing else.”

“Don’t you work at an Ulta or some place like that? How is that street cred?” Raphael questioned wryly.

“Don’t ruin this for me, fang-boy,” she threatened. She managed to look serious for less than a second before she she laughed. “It’s either that, or cry, and I am not letting that idiot earn my tears, man. My eyeliner is far too good for him.” No one mentioned how said eyeliner was now smudged and smeared as that would have defeated the point she was trying to get across.

Instead, they continued to trade harmless barbs and tell tales of previous battles which led to trying to one-up each other in ridiculous stories. Even Jace chimed in more than once, though Simon seemed to lead the lot in being able to make the most mundane task into something inevitably injury-worthy. Alec just sort of let himself drift as the words washed over him, the only thing he was consciously aware of was the way the tight coil of tension that was Magnus beside him slowly began to unfurl with each passing absurdity.

Aliorn refused to sleep, but Karen curled up in a chair for a little bit. He wasn’t sure how much rest she got but every time she jerked awake someone was there to wrap her into their latest tale or pass her more of the never ending supply of food. At one point, Raphael tried to show Madzie how to use chopsticks and, at another, Jace tried to figure out how the kiddie cup of jasmine tea had become hot chocolate. Throughout it all, Magnus refused to leave his side, refused to venture that extra inch that would mean they would no longer be touching in some way, be it folded hands or knocked knees or simply bodily slumped together.

Eventually, Luke came to gather Karen, likely called by Clary if he was to make a guess. He would make sure she had the support of the pack if needed and, more importantly, make sure she wasn’t left alone with her thoughts quite yet. Aliorn took advantage to make his exit as well and Raphael was able to talk Catarina into letting him go if and only if Luke drove him and Simon escorted as no one would let Magnus or her make a portal given their current exhaustion levels. The three were to stop by in a day or two to verify their wounds were healing properly with ridiculous threats to hunt them down should they refuse. Izzy begged off to check in at the Institute and dragged Clary along with her, but there was no tearing Jace away any time soon.

Alec eventually managed to shuffle towards the bedroom, though it was far from unassisted. He knew he should wash up or at least change out of his blood stained remnants, but wasn’t sure if he had the energy to do so. The bed looked soft and inviting, and he was fairly certain Magnus could get the worst of it out of the sheets if needed. Maybe. 

He didn’t realize that he had been physically leaning towards that softness until Magnus pulled him upright instead. The snap of some ringed fingers and the glow of some magic that shouldn’t be used yet, especially so frivolously, and he found himself clad in pajama bottoms and one of his favorite well-worn t-shirts. A glance showed the worst of the grime was gone and every healing cut and slice were now covered in a fresh layer of gauze, including the damage to his legs that he knew he had never gotten around to treating beyond the iratze.

“You can wash up properly later as I fear we would both fall over if we tried right now,” Magnus told him around a yawn. He flipped the coverlet down and near bodily pushed Alec towards the satin clad mattress. “And when you do, we can have a discussion of full disclosure of all injuries during treatment. I shouldn’t have to search them out magically, darling.”

Alec offered him an apologetic look, especially at the fact he had mentioned the magic he had nearly been drained of. “Jace helped me put my shoulder back in when he got me down,” he admitted. “It didn’t seem like much after... well, everything else.”

Magnus shook his head and tsked at him. “I didn’t even know about the shoulder being out, only strained,” he admitted with put upon sigh. His fingers flitted over the mostly healed joint and a deep sense of warm relief sank into the remaining ache. “You have earned yourself the most thorough of reviews, young man.”

“Later,” Catarina called from the doorway. “Both of you need to pass the hell out already.”

“Yeah, save your kinky foreplay for when I’m not on watch,” Jace griped. It was followed by an embarrassed look when he realized Madzie was still at his side.

“Later,” Magnus confirmed. He was too tired to put much into the wink, but the thought was there anyway.

Later came and later went and, eventually, the two of them stumbled back out far more rested than either of them had thought possible. Alec determinedly did not mention the creases from the pillow that Magnus still wore pressed into his skin knowing he probably had the same if not worse. More takeout had been ordered in their absence, pizza this time, and Madzie and Jace were watching some animated program with far too much enthusiasm while Catarina read through a well worn book on potions.

She marked her page and glanced up at them with the critical gaze of a medical professional. “Better,” she said after some consideration.

“As in you’ve seen or we appear to be?” Magnus asked. He sat down beside her with something approaching his usual grace while Alec helped himself to a piece of pepperoni. He let the two of them discuss the finer points of the care and feeding of warlocks and their ilk while he tried to figure out just what was on the television. He was fairly certain it held no educational value. Also, he was unable to identify the species of most of the characters and could not tell if that was intentional or a stylistic failure.

She must have approved of whatever Magnus had told her as, soon enough, she stood to gather her things. She even timed it to be lined up with the end of an episode to prevent the inevitable complaints. Madzie pouted anyway, but acquiesced after a round of hugs and a slice of pizza for the road. Or portal, rather, to be more accurate. Before she ushered her charge through, Catarina called out, “Try to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like save half the Downworld or try to take down a rogue warlock for at least another twenty-four hours?” 

“No promises,” he told her because, really there were none.

She snorted as if that were her due and stepped through, the glow and shimmer blinking out behind her.

Jace stood and started to organize the detritus littered about the place, but Magnus waved him off. “You two going to be okay on your own?” he asked instead.

“I’ll throw up the wards once you leave,” Magnus promised, which wasn’t quite an answer. It also wasn’t quite something he was supposed to do yet given the drain of magic he had just gone through, but Jace was definitely not the one to talk him out of that. Neither was Alec when it came down to it.

For his part, Alec looked around the room at all of the evidence of just how many people had been there, how many people had helped how many others and how many had survived the process. He tried not to smile at the bow and quiver laid out on the table, nor the seraph blade and new cell phone beside them. He knew the latter was from Isabelle as the case had been upgraded to the kind she preferred.

“We’ve got this,” he promised. 

He held out his hand in thanks and Jace rolled his eyes before he pulled him into a bone crushing hug. “You better,” he muttered, trying his best to sound cross. “Because if I have to see you hanging half dead like that again, there will be words.”

He pulled back and offered Magnus a nod before he headed for the door. The heavy wood and metal had barely clicked shut behind him before the walls began to light up as the wards began to slide into place. It was far slower than usual, and Alec wasn’t sure if it was to give Jace time to leave or if Magnus was adding a little extra to the process.

He decided it was at least partly something extra when Magnus caught himself against the edge of the couch before he stumbled around the side and plopped down heavily. There was a space left for him beside him and he was not foolish enough to ignore it. He wrapped an arm around his lover and pulled him close, both of them letting out a tiny little sigh of contentment from the action. “We’ve got this?” he asked with far less bravado than he had attempted with the others.

Magnus nodded, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Just, you know, later,” he mumbled. “This is good for now.”

Alec looked at the mess of food and bandages and weaponry, at the glow of the wards and the hint of the light of the city through the windows. Then he looked at the exhausted man cuddled close to his side and pulled a blanket down to cover them both. “Yeah, this is good,” he agreed.


End file.
